


Falling

by Anonymous



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Intersex Loki (Marvel), M/M, Memory Alteration, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Loki falls from the sky into a pile of garbage, The Grandmaster quite enjoys his newest acquisition
Relationships: En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: Anonymous





	Falling

Loki groaned as he drifted back into consciousness, nose wrinkling as he took in the fetid stench of garbage on the air around him. He shifted onto his elbows, and flopped back with a stifled whimper as his ribs ground painfully in his chest: broken. He rested against the ground, determinedly not thinking about whatever it was that had broken his long fall from where Hela had thrown him from the Bifrost. A suppressed pang of grief wound through his heart as he thought of what fate had likely befallen his brother and Asgard, finding yet another child of Odin had been… unexpected. The lies were unsurprising, but finding out that Thor was not Odin’s true heir, that Frigga was likely not Odin’s first wife, that had shocked him truly, accompanied by a strange sense of catharsis. After the events of all those years, all of the pain and conflict, neither of them had truly been the heir to the throne of Asgard.

. 

He pressed a hand to his ribs, forcing his magic into the wounds, and sighed in relief as he felt his bones knit back together. Once the process had finished, he levered himself onto his feet, swaying a little as he readjusted to gravity. He closed his eyes for a moment, grasping onto his perception of the present, fighting the rush of memories of his first fall from overwhelming him. _Falling. Endless, endless falling. Cold unlike he’d ever felt settling into his bones, freezing him to his core until his Jotun form had risen, and even then… so cold. Starving in the void, hunger gnawing at his stomach, draining him of his strength, body shutting down slowly and painfully, until he was functioning at his most basic level. His body refusing to die, refusing to stop living, even as he prayed for death. The light of the stars he fell past spearing into his brain, his magic desperately reaching for his connection to Yggradsil and sending pain burning through his nerves as it bounced back to his body… so much pain, and then… Thanos_. He shook himself, trying to stop the tremors which rippled through his body, trying to force his ragged breaths back into some semblance of control. He forced his eyes open again, and stared at the piles of garbage which surrounded him, this… world? Was completely unfamiliar, and the word ‘world’ felt entirely too charitable. He watched as spacecraft flit around the skies above him, while larger ships slowly trawled the sea of refuse around him, a scavenger planet? He reached out with his magic, gently probing for any of Yggdrasil’s branches which would provide him with passage off world. He tried to stifle a shiver of fear and nausea as he found nothing, he was completely cut off. 

. 

Loki steeled himself, sealing his fear away to be dealt with when he had found somewhere secure, and began the process of sliding down the mountain of space garbage he had landed in. He flinched as more objects fell from the sky, crashing down around him, dislodging his footing and sending him into a graceless, painful tumble to the foot of the pile. He scoffed in frustration, and cursed quietly as he noted the ache of new bruises, and yet more tears in his battered armour. This planet was awful. Truly, sincerely, awful. He pushed himself to his feet again, wiping his filthy hands on his leathers, and froze as he heard chatter coming from behind the trash pile to his left. He slipped behind what he thought to be a hunk of space craft, all scorched metal and peeling paint, and coiled himself into a low fighting stance, knives slipping from his sleeves and into his ready palms. 

.

He examined the creatures which rounded the corner, the painted masks and brightly coloured cloaks belaying some form of civilisation on this rock.  
  
“Food?” One chanted, the word moving through the ranks, building to a crescendo as they drew closer to where he crouched. The first creature sniffed the air, “Fighter? Food?”  
  
Loki stood slowly, keeping his stance wary, “What is this place?”  
  
"Food?” A different creature grunted, head tilting slowly to the left, seeming to examine him closely, before repeating, certain: “Food.”  
  
“Not food,” He refuted quickly, mind whirring for a concept outside of those offered by the pack which was slowly moving to encircle him, “Visitor?” He narrowed his eyes, looking for comprehension as they moved closer, stalking.  
  
“Food.” They replied, firmer this time.  
  
He sighed, he really had tried. No matter what Thor and the Aesir thought of him these days, fighting was truly his preferred last resort. At least if an enemy listened, they could be reasoned with, could be manipulated into providing some form of aid. He side stepped the first to lunge for him, turning and slicing the creature across the back of its neck, enchanted blade easily parting the creature’s leathery flesh, severing its nervous system with ease and leaving it to crumple to the ground.  
  
“Anyone else?” He asked, hoping vainly that one would grow a brain within the next few seconds.  
  
With snarls of anger the rest of the pack descended on him, and he spun in a whirl of glinting blades, cutting deep into alien bodies, blasting them away with bursts of magic, and blocking their weapons as best he could. Sweat dotted his brow, the world was terribly humid, and he teleported a short distance away, almost smirking as the creatures spun to search for him. “Now, if we could conduct ourselves in a manner befitting-“  
  
He was cut off by the shriek of engines behind him, and stared as the creatures fled, shrieking and stumbling through the refuse, leaving their fallen comrades laying on the ground to be swallowed by the ever-shifting garbage mountains. He spun, cocking his head as the ship opened and a woman appeared, swaying a little on her feet, almost drunk but clearly still functional. Not just a woman, he frowned, she looked almost- And then she raised an arm and a flash of pain radiated from his throat, he grunted, raising a hand to his neck, probing the spot where the disk had burrowed into his skin.  
  
“How dare you-“ He began, but was interrupted by a sharp movement of her hand, and then he was engulfed in pain which left him writhing on the ground, and then he sank into darkness again. 

.

Awareness came slowly the second time, and his muscles ached from the spasms which he had endured earlier. He was strapped to a chair, knives removed from his body, but, he checked briefly, still within summoning distance if he needed them. No point in causing any suspicion immediately by summoning them to his person, he would bide his time. He could wait, if he was anything, he was patient. He could meet his captor and try to bring them to his side. He examined the room as best as he could with his head strapped firmly to the back of the chair, the ceiling was high, walls painted with a riot of colours which were almost overwhelming. He wrinkled his nose, whoever had designed this place had… interesting tastes at best. He tried not to flinch at the sound of doors banging open behind him, boisterous voices echoing across the room.  
  
“Well, Grandmaster, here is the newest item I have obtained for you.” The woman, he assumed the one from before, said, voice smooth and cultured. Her accent was distinctly Asgardian, he thought, but what was she doing here? She was clearly familiar with the world, with the so-called ‘Grandmaster’ who he assumed to be the ruler. Who was this woman? He tried to speak, wincing as the disk at his throat burned a little at his attempts, threading tension through his muscles to keep his mouth shut and his voice silent.  
  
A man in a brightly embroidered robe strolled into his vision, mouth twisted into a strange half-smile which was not quite friendly but not quite threatening, giving Loki a slow blink as he took in his form. “You have done well, Scrapper 142. This one is quite the specimen.” The man appeared older but there was a strange agelessness in his eyes, something almost ancient in their dark depths.  
  
“He appears to be a competent fighter, he cut down six scavengers in the northern wastes without aid.” She sounded bored, as though speaking of a mundane business transaction instead of, seemingly, trading away the life of a man she had stunned and kidnapped however long ago. He was not, he realised with discomfort, sure how long he had been unconscious for.  
  
The man before him hummed discordantly, an unsettling sound which left Loki eyeing him warily, trying not to flinch as a gold nailed hand reached for his chin. Loki bristled as the man leant close, examining him closely, eyes raking over his skin, “A fighter?” He murmured, close enough that their breaths mingled, “That seems like a waste, what with the state our current champion leaves his opponents in…”  
  
Loki bristled, he was a perfectly competent fighter, had been trained by Asgard’s best, had blended magic seamlessly into his style through his work alone. The derision of Asgard had been difficult when he was younger, but the pride he felt towards his work was undefeated, had shielded him from the snide remarks and comments from the other warriors. His father had been unimpressed as well, trying to encourage Loki to focus on more conventional activities, but he had stood firm, continued enjoying his seidr studies in the night after his father had banned him, had perfected sneaking into the library without ever being noticed. The ‘Grandmaster’, Loki suppressed a snort of derision at the title, stroked his throat gently, seeming to consider Loki closely.  
  
“I’ll give you four million for him.” He said blandly, as though discussing what mead he wished to order.  
  
The woman scoffed as she came into view, expression almost soft as she looked at the man, “Only four? You have given me double that for stock far below his calibre.”  
  
He drew back, exaggeratedly sighing as he looked at Loki, “You are straining me, dear Scrapper…”Loki narrowed his eyes as the lie pinged his awareness, stimulating the godhood he had inherited as a child. His face cracked into a strange but enthusiastic smile, “How about thirteen million? A special offer for my favourite Scrapper.”  
  
The woman inclined her head, “Done. I will see you at the gathering later?” She clapped him on the shoulder companionably, before touching his cheek with a fleeting hand, the man’s olive skin pinked slightly under her touch, and he touched the spot her hand had rested upon fondly.  
  
“Topaz?” He called, “Ensure that, uh, 142 receives her credits, and leave me with my, heh, new acquisition.”  
  
He heard a woman’s voice grunt her acquiescence somewhere behind him, and heard two pairs of footsteps leave the room and disappear behind the door.  
  
The man’s attention returned to where Loki sat, and he tilted his head, “Now, what is the name of my newest item?”  
  
Loki’s jaw relaxed abruptly, and he flexed the muscles painfully, “I am Loki.” He replied, assessing the reaction of the man before him. “Of Asgard.”  
  
“Assberg?” The man replied, humour rising in his voice, “You… come from… a- _a planet_ called Assberg?”  
  
Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he had the distinct impression that the man before him was far more dangerous than he seemed, far less of a fool than he projected to the world. “As _gard_ ” He corrected, controlling the irritation in his tone, forcing himself to sound patient in the same way he had when dealing with Thor’s ridiculous Warriors Three.  
  
The man hummed again, seeming to lose interest in the conversation. “As you say,” He moved closer again, “You are quite lovely, _Loki_. A truly wonderful addition to my household. Not as a champion, despite the prowess you displayed to 142, I have a far better place for you. But first,” He paused for a moment, smile not quite reaching those strange eyes again.  
  
Abruptly the chair turned, revealing a large set of doors which had been just out of Loki’s line of sight, the Grandmaster rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder, squeezing gently as he did so.  
  
“Where are you taking me?” Loki enquired, keeping his voice neutral but mildly interested, straining subtly against the cuffs keeping him in place. Fear flickered through him as they refused to move, and he tried again, wincing as they tightened around his wrists in seeming punishment.  
  
The man huffed a laugh, “No need to fret, it’s just uh orientation.” As they reached the door, Loki froze as the man carded a hand through his hair, “We will reunite soon, my dear, you just need to sit back and relax.”  
  
Loki felt his eyes widen, the lie striking his consciousness again, and strained against the cuffs again, trying to twist out from underneath them. The Grandmaster gave a good natured huff, and the disk in his throat zapped him viciously,  
  
“Ah, that’s the obedience disk… never liked the name, it was always supposed to be a placeholder, but I never quite came up with a replacement,” He chuckled a little, “Then everyone else began calling them the same, and it stuck. Quite useful for our more uh, _unruly_ residents. Surely, Loki, you will be quite ahem obedient for me?” The question clearly did not require an answer from Loki, so he bit his tongue, kept silent, while he gazed at the door.  


.

The large doors swung open to reveal a dark room. His chair moved forward, even as he struggled desperately, going as far as to summon his knives in an attempt to slip them under the shackles to find some leverage. Nothing. Trapped in the chair, to be subjected to whatever lay in the room.  
The chair rolled forwards, and Loki was absorbed by a miasma of colour and sound, a woman’s voice soothingly reciting words into his ears, the room easily swamping him, leaving his mind open to the suggestion around him.  
  
“Where once you were nothing, now you are something… You are the property of the Grandmaster. Congratulations,” The voice continued, beautiful images of Sakaar flashing in front of him, images of life and beauty and joy, all burning into his brain, he almost wanted to look away but his head was clamped in place, eyes fixed on the images before him. The Grandmaster had _saved_ ( _Captured? Bought?_ ) him, had picked him out of the refuse ( _That wasn’t right, he had fallen, fallen, fallen, and then the woman had-_ ) saved him from Scavengers, brought him to his side at the palace ( _No, wrong, that wasn’t true_ ). His innate ability to detect falsehood was buried in the information being forced into his brain…) was giving him a place, a _home_ , and he would get to stay with Grandmaster forever, get the honour and status he craved… and Loki felt a spark of something close to joy building in his stomach, something not his own, but seemingly inescapable, devouring his doubts and fear in a tidal wave of happiness unlike he had ever felt before. “You have met the Grandmaster…” The woman’s voice repeated the phrase over and over, “The Grandmaster loves you, the Grandmaster will take care of you…”  
  
A smile spread across Loki’s face of its own volition, he had met the Grandmaster. It was wonderful, the Grandmaster had been so very kind to him, so welcoming, so concerned for his welfare. The Grandmaster would take care of him now Asgard was gone, now Thor was gone, he need never worry again. He was safe, safe, safe. He was the happiest he had been in many years. The lights flashed, dazzling him momentarily, images burned onto his retina, and he let out a cry of joy as he dipped back into a comfortable and dreamless slumber.  


**Author's Note:**

> Casually reuploading something I posted and deleted in 2018, like an absolute animal. 
> 
> Chapter 2, maybe, if I get my shit together.


End file.
